Hallowed Bond (Chronicles of Ylandre Book 2) (31 page)

Where did you hide their clothes? Speak or by Veres I will geld you bit by bit and feed the pieces to the palace hounds!” He tightened his grip.

Malkon screamed, “Under my bed! Beneath the floor boards!”

“And where did you have them pass to get to the gardens?”

“Servants’ hall—”

Dylen caught his breath. The passages to and from the servants’ hall wended their way along the back of the palace. The hall itself overlooked the chasm.

“How?” he pressed. “Did no one notice a whole contingent of Deira in Ylandrin livery?”

“Only a few at that hour,” Malkon wheezed painfully. “Killed them—”

Dylen swore. “The bodies?”

“Threw-threw them down the chasm.”

“
Heyas
!” Dylen muttered. “Heartless scum!” he said through gritted teeth. His eyes narrowed. “That explosive—did you throw it?”

Malkon’s eyes suddenly blazed with malevolence. “Yes!” he spat. “A pity your fool of a lover got in the way!”

Dylen smashed Malkon’s head down. He rose to his feet, feeling as if he had just wallowed in a pit of miasmic filth. He could not get away from the cesspool that was Malkon’s mind fast enough.

He staggered as he came to. Laral caught him and led him to a chair. The Shaja Amir thrust a cup of strong brandy into his hand. Dylen quickly drank it, welcoming the invigorating burn of its descent down his throat.

He looked across at Malkon. The Deir was slumped in his chair, moaning softly.

Dylen noted that the latter’s throat was mottled and the crotch of his trousers rent. It seemed his threats had not wholly been undertaken in the realm of Malkon’s mind.

Sivar burst into the room, followed by some of Talvas’ soldiers. They carried bundles of clothing. The prince viciously flung a handful of mantle clasps at Malkon. The Deir yelped and opened bleary eyes to stare at his furious spouse.

Dylen glanced at the scattered clasps. All bore the delphinid engraving of the diplomatic corps. And inscribed above each delphinid image was the insignia of the House of Havare, the ruling family of Teraz.

“You heard?” he asked Amir.

“Every word,” the Shaja grimly confirmed. He nudged a clasp with his foot. “We should have suspected given the blood ties between the Ferrendas and the Havares.”

“Yes,” Laral somberly agreed. “Shall we have the rest of their consular team

arrested, Uncle?”

“Immediately,” Amir grimly said. He addressed Talvas. “Question them well. I want to know what else they’ve been up to. Meanwhile, we have this dungworm to deal with.”

“I say we quarter him alive and send the parts to his sire!” Sivar snarled. He was trembling with rage and looked quite ready to carry out his choice of sentence then and there.

Malkon lurched to his feet with a fearful gasp, staring at his mate in shock. He had apparently never seen this side of the normally quiet and reserved prince. Dylen observed that Talvas did not force him down again but instead stepped to one side.

The captain silently yanked out his long knife from its sheath on his leg. He nodded at Laral. The crown prince dipped his head once in answer then placed his hands on his cousin’s shoulders.

“You know we can’t just dismember him much as we would like to,” he said. “As that craven cur pointed out, and he is right unfortunately, it won’t serve us to set a precedent of openly torturing and killing a fellow royal. So do calm down, Siv.”

“Calm down?” Sivar angrily said. “He nearly killed you! How can you expect me to remain calm about that?”

Catching the undercurrents of something other than cousinly concern in his tirade, Dylen carefully studied Sivar. He caught his breath as comprehension struck him. Here was the true explanation for Sivar’s lack of obeisance toward Laral.

“But I wasn’t killed, thanks to Lord Dylen and Ambassador Leyhar,” Laral said soothingly, reaching up to run his knuckles down Sivar’s cheek. “And, if we are agreed on our course, there will be no more threats to my life.” He glanced over his shoulder at Malkon with chilly disdain. “At least from some quarters.”

That Malkon was puzzled by Sivar and Laral’s behavior showed in the frown that creased his brow. Seeing his expression, Sivar promptly forgot his rage and suddenly smiled, albeit derisively.

“You never suspected? Yet I can tell Lord Dylen has already guessed our secret.”

Sivar regarded his mate mockingly. “The reason I stopped inviting you to my bed was because I’d been frequenting his.” He let his eyes run up and down Laral’s body in covetous fashion. At Malkon’s shocked expression, he laughed. “I didn’t particularly care to wed you, my dear Mal. But you brought with you not only a considerable marriage settlement but also your shares in several Ferrenda companies. Shares that are now conjugal property and will come to me after your death.”

He raised his eyebrows in amusement when a horrified Malkon gaped at him. “And you didn’t suspect that either, I gather. Really, Mal, such an obtuse fool you’ve turned out to be! Well, no matter. Verily, we weren’t going to allow you to live long enough to interfere with
Aba
’s rule or Laral’s. But we would have waited a decent while before arranging for your demise. Your actions however have forced us to do it much sooner.

We do have to put our interests first after all.”

As he listened to Sivar’s discourse, Dylen saw Laral slip behind Malkon next to Talvas. The Ferrenda heir noticed his stare and half-turned with a jerk. Dylen caught a glimpse of Talvas’ knife blade as he passed it to Laral. He jerked his attention back to Malkon as the Deir tried to back away from Laral. There was the sound of another blade sliding out of its sheath behind him. Malkon whirled.

Fine metal flashed. Dylen could only stand by as Malkon screamed.

His scream ended in a gurgle as he was skewered front and back. Sivar and Laral held him there between them, uncaring of the blood that stained their garments.

Laral chuckled. “Goodbye, Malkon,” he murmured into the mortally wounded Deir’s ear. “Rest assured we shall accord you all the burial honors of a member of the family.”

With that, he yanked his blade out and rammed it up and into the base of Malkon’s skull. The cousins withdrew their knives and stepped back. Malkon slumped to the floor in a heap amidst the pooling crimson of his blood.

Amir grunted approvingly and said, “Well done.” He gestured to his guard-captain son and instructed, “He died from a fall. See to it, my good Talvas.”

Talvas obeyed with grim satisfaction. Two of his soldiers dragged the corpse out of the chamber. Another was tasked with quickly mopping up the blood, erasing all signs of Malkon’s execution.

Amir laid a steady gaze on Dylen. “A walk along the cliff wall when one is in his cups is very reckless, don’t you think, Essendr-
tyar
?”

Dylen looked from the Shaja to Sivar and Laral. He let out his breath and, addressing Sivar, said, “You have my deepest condolences, Your Highness.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Aftershocks

Riodan listened intently as Dylen related the events that occurred while he was unconscious. He grimaced ever so often as more of the Ferrendas’ perfidy came to light and stared wide-eyed when Dylen described his battle to gain entry into Malkon’s consciousness. Finally, he winced at the tale of Malkon’s slaying.

A day and a half had passed since Riodan fell into a deep refreshing sleep. He’d awakened to find Dylen drowsing in his chair by the bed. When Riodan attempted to turn on his side to face Dylen, the motion pulled on his still tender back, forcing a sharp hiss out of him. The sound, soft as it was, roused Dylen at once and prompted him to call a physician to Riodan’s bedside.

With most of his discomfort alleviated, Riodan had demanded a detailed account of what he had missed or been too distracted by his injuries to notice. Dylen obliged, and when he was done, Riodan half-closed his eyes and fell silent while he mulled over everything he had learned. At length, he sighed and looked at Dylen.

“Laral and Sivar,” he murmured. “To kill anyone with such cold-blooded efficiency… I confess I don’t know whether I’m impressed or horrified.”

“They will make a most formidable pair when Laral comes to the throne,” Dylen concurred.

“And they were lovers all this time,” Riodan said with some wonder. He chuckled wryly. “I truly did not see that.”

“Neither did I until that very moment.”

Riodan’s brow furrowed. “But Amir’s counsellor, his scribe, the servants—do you think they know?”

“Most likely.”

“Yet Malkon didn’t. Why did no one tell him, I wonder?”

“Do you really? Malkon was generally disliked even by his own retainers,” Dylen reminded him. “The only folk who were loyal to him were his family’s supporters.”

“Then it wasn’t disapproval of Sivar’s demeanor I witnessed that day but rather discomfort that they were being so open in front of me.” Riodan frowned. “Did they worry that
I
might carry the tale to Malkon myself?”

“Possibly,” Dylen replied. “They didn’t know your intentions yet. But Sivar and Laral must have believed you could be trusted else they would have been discreet. And Amir apparently agreed with them.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Riodan conceded. “But how very foolish of Malkon not to cultivate affection for himself amongst the royal household at least.”

Dylen shrugged. “Foolish and overly conceited. I wager he thought himself much too high to care for the sensibilities of common folk.”

“He was beyond stupid then,” Riodan dryly concluded. “Will the Ferrendas believe the official story of his death?”

“I highly doubt it. Several Terazan delegates gone missing in the space of one night

will definitely raise suspicions,” Dylen pointed out. “But they will have no grounds to protest. Or rather they’re in no position to do so given Malkon’s role in the murders of two Halvans and the attempted assassination of Laral.”

Riodan nodded. “Who will you inform of the truth? Aside from Rohyr that is.”

“Gilmael, of course, as my superior,” Dylen answered. “And Tenryon will have to know if it can aid him in searching for the templar who shielded Malkon. As for Lassen, well, Rohyr tells him everything in any case.”

That made Riodan grin. “He trusts Lassen completely.”

Dylen sighed. “Because he loves him utterly,” he softly said.

Their eyes met. Riodan’s grin turned wistful.

“Despite everything, I enjoyed our stay in Asmara very much,” he whispered.

“So did I,” Dylen agreed. “Against my better judgment.”

Riodan’s eyes widened as he recalled the same words spoken just so more than twenty years ago. And then they twinkled.

“Perhaps your better judgment isn’t all you’ve touted it to be,” he teased.

Dylen tried not to smile and, failing quite miserably, huffed a chuckle instead.

“You’re probably right,” he lightly said.

The Shaja summoned Dylen a few days later.

He sat with Amir in the long trellis-shaded terrace adjacent to the royal apartments.

Dylen looked about him appreciatively. There were many such airy spaces built into the upper levels of the palace. And the view of Shenze from this particular spot was spectacular to say the least.

After the usual preliminary courtesies, Amir immediately broached the reason for his summons.

“What you did—that was extraordinary, Lord Dylen,” he remarked. “The Essendris are indeed to be feared if they are all so gifted.”

“Rest you,
Dyhar
, not all the Royal House are as blessed,” Dylen assured him. “And Rohyr was trained by Tenryon Hadrana himself.”

“Meaning to say he has been imbued with a sense of honor and responsibility in the owning of such power. Thank Veres for that.” Amir nodded. “Yes, Hadrana-
tyar
’
s
reputation precedes him even here in the south. Would that the same could be said of all adepts. The templar who aided the Ferrendas for one.”

“I have already sent word to Tenryon regarding that matter.”

“That is good.”

They quietly viewed the city for several minutes. Dylen could easily imagine the extent of the Shaja’s relief that his country had been spared much turmoil and his House the threat of internal strife, at least for the moment. Eventually, Amir sighed with apparent contentment and looked at him again.

“And now, what will you do?” the Shaja asked. “Sivar tells me you wish to take Ambassador Leyhar back to Ylandre soonest.”

Dylen inclined his head. “He will recover faster amongst family and friends. And besides, this posting was only temporary,” he added. “The designated ambassador to your country will be here very shortly.”

“I see. Well, in any case, we are indebted to both of you. If you require any

assistance, you need only ask and we shall grant it.” The corners of Amir’s eyes crinkled unexpectedly. Grinning quite suddenly, he added, “And you may bring back as much
kahvi
as you wish. I hear you both took a great liking to it.”

Dylen laughed. “Indeed, I would have missed it badly. Thank you, Your Majesty.”

The story that would come out of Asmara in later days was that Malkon had gone for a late evening stroll along the cliff wall behind the palace. He had apparently been inebriated—several palace sentries as well as a number of servants testified that they had seen him walking none too steadily close to the parapet edge. So sloshed had he been that he had not even had the wits to scream when he slipped, tumbled over the wall and plunged to his death in the rocky depths below. It took almost a fortnight before they managed to retrieve his corpse, and by then, it was badly decomposed, it being the height of one of the hottest summers to afflict Asmara.

Teraz cautiously inquired after their missing people, but Jubal Ferrenda dared to insinuate that his son’s demise might have been no accident. The Varadani pretender went so far as to say that it was too much of a coincidence that Malkon had died so soon and suddenly after the arrival of two prominent Ylandrins.

Asmara’s response regarding the missing Terazans was that they did not know anything about their fate save that last they were seen they were being escorted by one of Malkon’s retainers to the late lord’s apartment. Where they had gone thence was hardly Asmara’s responsibility given that their visit had neither been official nor expected by the palace stewards.